[Critique Group 1] Sorry, I sent something but it doesn't appear to have gone through

[DQ Noriega]

This is late, but hopefully you will be able to critique it anyway.

College Co-eds

 

My mom, baby sister Christina, Tammy and I drove north from Santa Ana in
late August.  We were headed to the small farming community of Turlock,
located in the San Joaquin Valley near Modesto.  I had been accepted at both
San Francisco and Stanislaus State Colleges, but found the idea of living
off campus and learning my way around San Francisco overwhelming.
Stanislaus was actually smaller than the high school I had graduated from in
June. It was then the youngest of the California State Colleges.  The
dormitory was located across highway 99 from the college.  There was a
pedestrian signal activated by a push button to permit students to cross the
highway.  Then we had to follow a tarmac path through fields a long way to
reach the two buildings that made up the campus.  The library, cafeteria and
administration offices were in one building and all classes were in the
other.  A field house was the only additional structure completed when Tammy
and I started our freshman year.  The college was barely ten years old and
most of my professors were holders of P.H.D. degrees.  Except for some of
the freshman introductory courses held in the theater, classes were small.
When the college had first opened, some classes had to be held in barns at
the fairgrounds.  So our unflattering nickname among the other Cal State
Colleges was Turkey Tech.  Rather than being stung by this designation, we
had a cheer that went, "Gobble gobble, that's our cry, Turkey Tech, do or
die!"  The cheering crowd broke out with an imitation of a turkey gobble.
It was a lot of fun.  Actually, the school wasn't an agricultural college
but was noted for its business department.

Mom helped me carry in my things and I sort of rushed her off because I was
scared and didn't want to prolong the good-byes.  I left my door open and
put Tammy on a tie-down while I unpacked.  Two girls from Stockton who had
known each other in high school came along and introduced themselves.  Annie
Williams became my best friend during our freshman year.  Like me, she was
the first member of her family to go to college and the eldest child in a
family of five siblings.  We were both able to attend college because we had
won scholarships and qualified for education opportunity grants.  Although
she was an art major while I was leaning toward psychology, we had a lot of
things in common.  Cathy Dent was more outgoing and interested in the social
scene.  

 

All freshmen were required to live in the dormitory, unless they had a
waiver signed by their parents granting them permission to live off campus.
The dorm was an L-shaped two-story structure with a separate cafeteria
building and a swimming pool located between the two buildings.  It was
co-ed with women's rooms upstairs and men's on the ground floor.  The
entrance was at the junction of the two wings.  Tammy and I had the third
room along the left wing.  We didn't have a roommate.  The dorm wasn't
completely full and it was decided that rooming with a large dog might be
too crowded for anyone to share the room with us.

 

My room had two beds, two desks with shelves above them, a large closet and
a sink.  It was connected through an adjacent bathroom that held a shower
and an enclosed toilet to the room next door.  Two older girls shared that
room.  Sandy and Virginia had attended junior college and were transferring
to Stanislaus as juniors.  They were from Los Angeles and were friendly.
Another upper classman named Carol came by and invited me to join her and
some others for tea in her room after I finished settling in.  I began to
feel a little less nervous.  Everyone seemed eager to help make me feel at
home.  

 

The freshmen started off on a bus the next morning to attend a freshman get
acquainted camp in the mountains.  There was a dance and several activities
designed to give us a chance to meet and to be talked to by upperclassmen
and teachers.  Tammy never stopped wagging her heavy otter tail as we moved
with the group from one area to another.  It didn't matter to her if we
walked on a dirt path or a sidewalk.  She followed the crowd and located a
seat or whatever I asked such as the exit or entrance door.  

 

Tammy enjoyed the opportunity to meet and greet each new person that we
encountered.  I made the first time guide dog user mistake of allowing
everyone to pet and fuss over my beautiful girl.  She was definitely an
icebreaker encouraging people to approach and introduce themselves to me.

 

When I was fourteen years old, I had decided that I couldn't afford to allow
my natural shyness to continue.  When you are different from others, people
who don't know you tend to keep their distance.  I realized that if I wanted
to make friends, it was up to me to make the first overtures.  My high
school classmates were generous about helping to carry my heavy books or
braillewriter, but it didn't occur to them often to invite me to join them
in after school activities.  Tammy made everything so much easier by serving
as a topic of conversation.  Other students approached us to introduce
themselves, rave over Tammy's beauty, and ask questions. They talked about
favorite pet dogs and that led naturally in to discussing other topics.  

 

If someone offered to show me how to get to the dining hall or other place,
I knew I could find it again with Tammy's help.  If I wanted to go to a
concert or play held on campus, I could just go on my own and friends came
over to sit with us. I was no longer dependent on the time schedules of
others.  If I needed a break from the noise of the dorm, I could take a
quiet long walk confident that I wouldn't get lost.    

 

The only hitch in all this was that I soon found that everyone knew Tammy's
name and almost no one remembered mine.  Since DeAnna seemed to transform
into Diana, Dina, Daria, Dena and almost anything else that began with the
letter D.  I started using Dee to make things easier.

 

Our room was next to the pay phone for the two women's wings. The phone rang
and rang.  Finally when I couldn't stand the noise another minute, I gave in
and answered it.   Sometimes I got bored saying "Yosemite Hall."  I
substituted "Hello, devil speaking. Who in hell do you want?" Or using my
sultriest voice I'd vary my routine to say, "Good evening, this is Peggy's
house of fun and games. Who is your pleasure?"  That one got me in trouble
when the caller was one of the other girls' mothers.  Things usually went
something like this.  The call was for someone at the other end of the hall.
Tammy and I ran down the corridor only to find the girl wasn't in her room.
Then we ran back to take a message.  I typed the note and we ran back to the
right room to post it.  This gave us lots of practice locating rooms and
meeting more people.  Tammy became so popular, that a group of fraternity
guys decided to run her for freshman princess.  They made up posters
claiming that she was a perfect size twelve, (her collar size) and had a
winning personality.  Everywhere we went, people called out greetings to
her.  I began to feel invisible!

 

Tammy loved to wear a string of bright beads, scarf or other ornament.
Annie gave her a blue plastic peace symbol and she seemed to know she was
especially pretty when decked out in any little bit of finery. Her step had
an added bounce and became almost a prance.  One day, we walked past a yard
where some students were holding a barbecue.  A girl's voice exclaimed,
"Look at that beautiful dog!"  Then a pleasant male voice answered, "The
girl's not bad either."  I felt like doing a celebratory dance.  I wasn't
invisible after all. 

 

One of the people I met at the freshman camp was a quiet young man named
Curtis Noriega.  He made such a fuss over Tammy, she hurried toward him in
any crowd to say hello.  It wasn't until we had been going out for a burger
or movie on occasion, that he admitted he didn't really like dogs.  He
preferred cats as pets.  

 

I discovered that I would have to put a stop to Tammy's desire to meet and
greet her friends.   When she saw Curt as we were coming down the stairs at
the dorm, she surged forward pulling me off my feet.  I fell badly spraining
an ankle.  Some lessons just have to be learned the hard way.

 

It is often difficult for the general public to understand the insistence
guide dog handlers must make that their dogs not be spoken too, petted or
fed by everyone.  They are so beautiful, intelligent and friendly, people
long to reach out to pet or speak to them.  However, a moment's lapse in
attention to their job can cause a serious injury to the person they are
guiding.  Seeing a friend across the street might lead them to start the
crossing without checking for traffic.  A scrap from someone's lunch could
upset the dog's stomach, causing an embarrassing accident at a crucial
moment.  It could impair the dog's ability to guide due to feeling ill.  It
could lead to bad habits like begging or scavenging.  Un-authorized snacks
might also result in an unhealthy weight gain and shorten the guide's
working life.  For both our sakes, I had to curtail Tammy's social
interactions.

 

            As winter set in, a group trip was planned for those living in
the dorm to go up to Yosemite for the weekend.  I was still finding it
difficult to manage on my sprained ankle received when Tammy bounded down
the stairs to greet our friend Curt.  Since I had already paid my fee, I
decided to go.  Sandy and Virginia, the two girls from the room next to mine
asked Curt to drive us up into the Sierras.  Since he drove, the girls
didn't want him to stay in another cabin, in case we wanted the car. He got
teased about his four female roommates, three human and one canine.
However, we each had our own bunks. Since all of us were quite modest young
ladies, he wasn't treated to any free floorshows.   Everyone got to practice
getting into pajamas with lights turned out.  Tammy loved the snow.  She
thought catching and eating snowballs great sport.  Also high on her list
was burrowing through snow banks rolling and snorting.  Of course this
necessitated a vigorous rubdown with a towel upon our return indoors.  The
trip was fun and Tammy and I had many more visits to this lovely valley in
the Sierras over our years as a team.  

 

            I put up a one foot Christmas tree in my dorm room and
discovered that my dog loved packages as much as I did.  Two of them were of
particular interest to her.  She took every opportunity to steal and try to
open them.  The crackle of the paper always gave her activity away.  When I
heard that sound I demanded the return of the plunder.  One gift was
actually for her.  I don't know how she guessed that, as it was in a box.
Perhaps her nose led her to believe that no one would be giving me a rawhide
chew toy.  The other present though was one meant for me.  It was a closet
sachet filled with some kind of scented mixture of flowers and herbs.  This
made me wonder if there was a comparable plant to catnip that appealed to
dogs included in the blend.

 

Tammy loved the cold.  Whether we walked through the central valley fog and
rain or into a brisk sea breeze, her pace and pull increased as the
temperature dropped.  Best of all she loved walking through falling snow.
Her tail wagged constantly.  She could brace me over patches of ice if I
slipped, but just loved striding out into a cold wind.  

 

Tammy's retriever soul manifested itself in a new way.  She began to pick up
things she could easily carry in her mouth.  She didn't chew or damage them.
However, I did feel obligated to pay for the can of soup, bunch of bananas
and candy bar she carried to the checkout line at the grocery store.  Odd
tennis balls, ashtrays, and candlesticks began to appear in our room.  I
finally solved this tendency for indulging in kleptomania by giving her a
small change purse to carry when we went out.  It didn't interfere with her
guiding, and eliminated her desire to appropriate other people's
possessions. 

 

She loved to retrieve anything I dropped and proudly presented me with lost
pocket change, my shoe or anything else she thought I was searching for on
the floor.  Soon she associated a name with my sweater, or jacket, my tape
recorder case, my backpack, her leash and harness.  I could ask her for any
of these items and she dashed to find and bring them to me.

 

Her habit of making a dive for anything I dropped was finally curbed when I
accidentally allowed a bar of soap to slip from my hand.  Not realizing that
Tammy had snatched it up.  I kept searching the bathroom floor.  Finally,
Tammy thrust the bar of soap into my hand and charged off to get a drink.
After this bubble blowing misadventure, she waited to be asked to retrieve
dropped articles.   

 

Tammy's skill at choosing good footing made it possible to work safely at
any speed.  When I hadn't allowed enough time to make it to a class, she
enjoyed covering the distance along the paved path at a dead run.  Although
she moved quickly with a strong pull on cold, windy or foggy days, on hot
sunny ones, she hurried across hot tarmac and slowed down to walk in the
shade of trees.  Whatever our pace, she focused on her work.  Her alert eyes
scanned for hazards, took note of people and animals but concentrated on
navigating the best course to keep me safe.  She took her work very
seriously.  

 

Tammy had an exceptional memory.  One day when I was wearing new sandals, I
left the classroom building by a side door.  I slipped on rain slick steps.
Whenever I subsequently used that exit, Tammy approached those steps
cautiously.  She seemed to think that they were likely to cause me to
slither down them again if she didn't take special care.  

 

Her sense of fun was a constant source of laughter to everyone.  I was
taking her out on leash to relieve when a football whizzed past us.  Tammy
was off after it in a flash.  Catching it by the laces, she entered the
impromptu football game being played by some of the fellows from the dorm.
It took them nearly ten minutes of chasing her around the swimming pool
before she returned to me so I could give back the ball.  If she got bored
watching me study, she began a game of tossing her tennis ball for herself
and chasing it around the room.    

 

Her favorite toys were ones with squeakers in them.  I am sure people were
slightly concerned about that poor blind girl's sanity when I took her
shopping for a new toy.  I made each type on offer squeak and placed it on
the floor in front of Tammy.  She sat cocking her head listening to the
sounds.  Finally, she picked one from the line in front of her.  After I
replaced the rejects, she walked proudly to the cashier carrying her
selection so I could pay for the winner.  Life with my best friend and
college roommate was never dull.

 

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